The Most Dangerous Game

BY : milky
Category: Death Note > General
Dragon prints: 9965
Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Disclaimer: Death Note belongs to Ohba-sensei, Obata-sensei, Jump and a whole truckload of other people who aren’t me. Please don’t sue, I have no money anyways :(

A/N: In which Light is a stark raving psychopath, and people get laid because of it. There’s really not much else to explain :D Obviously, don’t read if you’ve got problems with either of these ideas.

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He knows it is not possible to die of boredom, because that is one of the things he has tried – written it down for one Roger DeBiers (or perhaps it was DeBreers? Hard to remember), aged 37, wanted in England for the rape and murder of a six-year old child. (He got the man on the second try, but only because “hang self at the Tower of London” turned out to work for hotels of the same name.) Suicide because of boredom seems rather more likely, but in that case the emotion is only the instigator, not the ultimate cause. Rope or poison, or more often, bottle, is the agent at hand; the boredom itself very rarely enters into it.

Which, in all fairness, is as it should be. Part of what makes the boredom so boring is that he honestly can’t figure what he should be doing about it. Here he is, in a hotel room, sitting side-by-side with the figure who is by all intents and purposes, his one and only rival, and he still can’t find a way to lighten this soul-crushing ennui. In fact, he recognizes, taking his mood apart and cataloguing it systematically, it is not even boredom that is causing this unusual restlessness. It is the frustration he is feeling as a result of BEING bored, and being for once at a loss to decide what action he should take.

Ryuuzaki (or Ryuuga, or L, or whatever ridiculous name he has decided to go with today) is staring at his myriad AV setup, filtering through a variety of pro-Kira websites on at least six different monitors. He is cycling through them with a dogged sort of persistence that has long since lost any hope of being endearing, and has just become tiresome, the clicking of a robot stuck in a never-ending sub-routine. In the far right hand corner of each panel is a video feed of themselves, staring at the machinery – Light’s real time neck-stretching looks bizarre on camera, as if his head is lolling about on his neck entirely of its own volition, and even Ryuuzaki seems exhausted, his usual hair style wilted into a pale shade of its usual bushiness. Ryuuzaki’s eyes are glazed in the video, staring back out at Light in sextuplicate, undistorted by lag or grain or even minor static. Dark, flat slates of obsidian that are no more substantial in real life than they are on the monitor: shallow splotches of black more dead than alive, like livid pools of blood gathered under the surface of a corpse’s skin. He clicks the mouse again, and the screen counterpart’s zombie eyes flicker slightly upward. Back to monitor one, and the fifteenth billion time he’s read over this section.

Frustrating. Again, these are sites they have both looked at many times before; Light has argued and counter-argued both sides of the argument until he was blue in the face. Both pros and cons to the idea of Kira having fansites (of course he personally is ecstatic, but not for the same reasons Ryuuzaki suspects that he is), and the entire thing is starting to smack of yet another half-assed attempt at a test. It is midnight, they both are damn tired, and they both know this is pointless and not worthy of The Game. Unless Ryuuzaki is just trying to bore him into a confession, something which Light highly doubts. He would be insulted indeed if his opponent thought him foolish enough to divulge sensitive information just to keep the “brainstorming” session going; all he really needs to do to protect his interests is sit here and be bored. So sit here, he will.

“What do you think about this passage, Yagami-kun?” Ryuuzaki is asking suddenly, and Light looks up at the third monitor to see a blue highlighted section from the “Church of the Destroying Angel”. A flash of annoyance runs through him again, coupled with an endless sense of despair; they have been over this manifesto before.

“Can I take a look?” He feigns interest and leans toward the mouse, more out of the need to stretch his arms than actual curiosity. Ryuuzaki nods and but relinquishes the mouse reluctantly, as if Light will somehow dirty it. Light curls his lip into the slightest of sneers and accepts it, scrolls down the page to read the full selection. As always, it is blindingly clear that Ryuuzaki is still clinging doggedly to his theory that Light is Kira, without a single shred of evidence.

“ ‘The angel is Upon us, and Lo, we bring his Word to the masses’ ”, Light reads in a calculatedly mocking tone. “ ‘We await his Gracious Signal for Our part in the great Work which hath been Visted upon us.’ Looks like somebody was having trouble with the shift key.”

Ryuuzaki barks a short laugh, and Light humors him with a chuckle, but they both know the joke isn’t even remotely funny. None of this is amusing – not the hour, nor the situation, nor the endless stream of poorly scripted and aesthetically bankrupt Kira sites. It’s all old hat, and none of it is remotely worth paying attention to. But that split second, when their limbs brushed past each other, and Ryuuzaki quivered, just a bit -

Now that, that is interesting.

“I still think that girl is all talk. The way the rest of the thing reads, it’s like she’s trying to convince herself.” Light says as he nudges the mouse back to its original position, keeping a close eye on Ryuuzaki’s face in the monitor as he does so. Predictably, the man flinches the instant Light’s hand sweeps next to his. Not very much, but enough to be perceptible if one is paying attention. And Light is definitely paying attention, to the way Ryuuzaki’s eyebrows twitch and his pale, fish-belly lips part ever so slightly into the beginnings of a gasp. His touch seems to bother the strange gangly bastard, and the inklings of an idea begin to form in his head. It might actually be interesting to take apart this phenomena, dissect it down into its various components. He shoves his chair away from the table and is suddenly faced with a view of Ryuuzaki directly; the man has swiveled to follow his movement.

“I’m going for coffee.” He says, mimicking a slight yawn. “You want some?” Quickly, without watching the exact trajectory, he “bumps” his fingers into the flesh of Ryuuzaki’s forearm, ostensibly trying to steady himself against the edge of the table.

“Please.” Ryuuzaki answers, though the syllables are marred with a slight hitch of breath. Very slight though, and Light has to give the man credit for self-control. He only noticed because he is looking for it, and were he not accustomed to spending far too many of his waking hours in close confinement with this man, he wouldn’t even have heard it. Still, he is reasonably certain he did pick up on a change, and the way Ryuuzaki’s eyes seem to follow him are supporting his hypothesis.

The shroud of boredom lifts, like the end of a bad dream.

He slips to the kitchen area of the suite with a bit of a kick in his step, fills up the water heater with a definite flourish. Of course it is currently an untested theory, but given the circumstantial evidence it doesn’t seem entirely unfounded. His physical presence disturbs Ryuuzaki, as it has been more and more recently – and though the oddball generally avoids contact with others, even his assistant Watari, he seems to have a special allergy to touching Light’s person, and reacts with symptoms of fear and/or nervousness when Light initiates contacts with him. Yet he’s perfectly willing to invite Light to stay here at night with him, ALONE, with nothing to protect him but the alarm systems and Watari sleeping next door. Furthermore, he is willing to do so on the thinnest of pretenses – revisiting documents they have already argued to death, and then some. Ergo, on some level, it is possible that Ryuuzaki wants to be bothered by Light’s company.

Ergo, on some level, it is possible that Ryuuzaki wants him.

Which is an interesting prospect. He is perfectly aware of what he looks like, and he’s not blind to the effect he has on people (particularly, those of the female persuasion); more than once he has used his looks to his own advantage. Still, it’s unclear exactly what he would gain by flirting with Ryuuzaki. Even if his hypothesis is correct, testing it to the extreme can only lead to needless complications and a possible worsening of the situation. The man already operates on little enough logic; what kind of hare-brained conclusion would he come up with if Light seduced him?

Actually, it might be interesting to find out.

The water heater whistles, signaling the end of its two minute boil, and Light reaches for the coffee cups automatically, still considering the implications. It doesn’t really matter much to him personally – he’s been with a parade of girls and boys, and neither gender of the airhead species is that much more interesting than the other – but it is a valuable piece of information. If Ryuuzaki is interested in him – if Ryuuzaki is gay and interested in him like that – it opens up a few options that he had not previously foreseen. Could it be possible for him to further confuse the lines between professional and personal and discredit the “genius” even more? His father has already – hell, even Matsuda does occasionally – voiced concerns about the man’s unfounded hunches. If they didn’t produce results every once in a while, it would be questionable who would even go along with some of his more unorthodox “intuitions”. And even if he does end up suspecting Light more because of this experiment…what’s he going to do, take it to a judge? The very idea of Ryuuzaki standing in a court of law, expressing how he divined Kira’s identity by having sex with him…

No, Ryuuzaki would bite his tongue. Light knows he would, and it would just make his eventual triumph that much more sweet. He could egg Ryuuzaki on, drive him crazy with all these silly hunches that he can’t possibly put a finger on, and ultimately dispose of him before he can prove a single one of his suspicions. It would only be proper to pay a little of this tension back, let HIM know what it’s like to be just one step short of victory all the time.

Assuming, of course, that his own hunch is correct. He will have to tread carefully.

He mixes the instant coffee into the boiling water quickly, doesn’t bother to pre-sugar it or anything like that. He’s acutely aware that Ryuuzaki is watching him on the number six camera, and it would just be easier not to have to explain any suspicious additions. He does grab the sugar bowl, though; Ryuuzaki has his own sterilized one, but as always it’s the thought that counts. He places both cups onto one of Watari’s little trays (even uses the doilies) and pads back toward the monitor area.

Ryuuzaki is, of course, watching him – both from the corner of his real eyes and at least three of the peripheral monitors, from five different angles and including above. That’s another thing to add to his circumstantial evidence file – the way Ryuuzaki is constantly monitoring him. Though most likely, that has more to do with the man’s insistence that his is Kira. In fact, Light wonders whether or not this (potential) attraction has anything to do with his appearance at all. Maybe he interests Ryuuzaki just because he is “Kira”.

Well, whatever floats your boat, as his baby sister often said, before he started replying with “buoyancy”.

“Here you go.” Light smiles gently, and sets a cup down in front of Ryuuzaki. Again, he takes a perverse amount of pleasure in brushing his thumb against the broadside of the man’s fingers. Ryuuzaki’s hands twitch only slightly before they stabilize around the coffee cup, and he downs half the cup in one kick-back.

”Watch out, it’s hot!” Light chides him needlessly, though he really doesn’t give a shit. If Ryuuzaki wants to burn his own throat off, he can be Light’s guest; none of his concern if the weirdo ends up scalding himself. Ryuuzaki’s lips are now colored an attractive red, bringing a disturbing level of life to his normally funeral-ready skin. Would he be the type to like deep, open mouthed romantic kisses, or would he rather settle for hard, wet, and blazingly sloppy? Light suddenly realizes that he doesn’t even know if Ryuuzaki is experienced; maybe he’s not any “type” at all yet. That thought alone is mildly thrilling – he does not have a virgin fetish per se (far from it, those are often the most annoying to wrestle sex from), but it would be an even greater form of poetic justice. “Death, at the hand of the one who first loved him” – yes, yes, that would be an amusing development indeed.

He sets the tray down, bends over and claps his hands around Ryuuzaki’s shoulders, and the monkey bastard shoots up like a live wire, every muscle going rigid in a rare example of decent posture. Perfect, he thinks, and squeezes down ever so slightly, feels the shocking boniness of the other’s boy’s shoulder blades.

“So, what have you got now?” He says, leaning low over Ryuuzaki’s shoulder. It’s like they’ve become some kind of two-headed monster, and Ryuuzaki has to swivel to talk to him.

“Recently activity on the Kira’s Army B-BBS” – slight stutter as Light kneads his fingers into the grooves of Ryuuzaki’s collarbone – “seems to indicate that they believe they have made contact with h-him—pardon me, but would you kindly cease doing that?”

“Doing what?” Light asks, the very picture of innocence, but he also releases his hold at exactly the same time. He lifts his hands off Ryuuzaki’s shoulders and slides immediately into his own chair, as if it were all some sort of laughable misunderstanding. Exactly what awkward teenagers did before they learned to just ask for what they wanted. The boys that he’d been with never took much convincing from this stage; just a sympathetic ear and a nudge toward a hotel that was friendly. They were eager to see someone else naked, and though it wasn’t like he was gay himself or anything, he never minded having his cock sucked. Depending on how Ryuuzaki reacts, that prospect could be decided in seconds.

Or not. There were two standard responses at this point, but as Light had half-expected Ryuuzaki chooses neither of them: he merely blinks at Light blankly before going back to his annoying dissertation. Tolerating. Light snorts. Obviously, Ryuuzaki wasn’t the type to get flustered and mad (at least not in public, in front of his rival), but he’d thought perhaps he might be the type to start probing. Instead, he’s gone straight into “gracious host” mode and pretended Light’s come-on just hadn’t existed – like a very fancy party where someone has accidentally insulted the decor. It is the simplest way to respond to something without actually deigning to give an opinion, and Light wonders for a moment whether his hypothesis had been shattered.

But if anyone knew how to play coy, it would certainly be Ryuuzaki; hadn’t he been the one to whip out amazing tennis skills just when the situation called for it? Ryuuzaki is famous for only allowing just as much personal information as the situation calls for. The trick would be getting him to believe it was worthwhile to admit to his attraction, which is somewhat unfortunate. It puts Light in the unhappy position of expressing reciprocal interest, which, while he can certainly fake it, is not exactly an appealing thought. At the very least, it punches a solid hole through the easiest way out, which is torture-the-sucker-into-making-the-first-move, then react with disgust. If he’s going to continue this, it will to have to be all or nothing. Light winces internally and tries not to think about how greasy that spaghetti-string hair looks. It would have been nice if he’d still had an out.

Of course, the only real way to forfeit is not to play. But that just wouldn’t be any fun.

“Yagami-kun?”

Light grins sheepishly and reaches for his own cup of coffee, which is rapidly cooling. He’d made it with cooler water on purpose because he entirely intends on tipping the contents onto his lap if necessary. Lame trick number three hundred and fifty seven, but it never fails to get the opponent focused on his crotch. Which, of course, is the point.

“Yeah?”

“Do you consider me attractive?”

Well. That was different. Quite in spite of himself, he finds himself spilling his coffee anyways.

“Shit!” Light swears and snatched at a random stack of papers, trying to stop the flow before it reaches his keyboard. Splashing a little coffee on his stain-proof black slacks is one thing; ruining millions of yen worth of equipment is quite another.

“Not those, I need them!” Ryuuzaki instructs, and wraps spidery fingers around Light’s wrist in a death grip. His hands are surprisingly strong (well, they would have been if Light hadn’t personally played him in tennis) and Light releases the papers immediately, wincing a little as blunt finger bones dig directly into his tendons. Damn it, but the guy needs to eat more. Of food that would make him actually gain weight, that is. He already eats enough to feed a small army.

Ryuuzaki drops the skein of documents to floor, somewhat casting aspersions on their professed importance, and mops up the rest of the spill with his shirt sleeve. With his white shirt sleeve. Light stares in horror at the brown leeching into the pristine cotton, staining the elbow entirely beyond recognition. The blemish is almost sickening – the implied grunginess enough to turn his stomach.

“Hey, that’s gonna stain.” He chides weakly, tugging at the clean topside of Ryuuzaki’s sleeve. “Here, let me get some towels or something.”

Ryuuzaki twitches a bit and blinks at him owlishly.

“That would only cause trouble for the cleaning staff.” He asserts.

Paper towels.” Light clarifies and dashes toward the kitchenette, still taken aback at Ryuuzaki’s nonchalant attitude. The kind of person who would mop up a spill with his shirt sleeve was the kind of person who would drop ketchup on expensive jackets, or clean his teeth with a toothpick loudly in restaurants, or eat mayonnaise with oden. Disgusting, disgusting behavior reserved only for the particularly low-class. No wonder the man was so responsive to his come-ons. Light is now nearly certain the geek has never had a date in his life.

He hooks the paper towel roll off its holder and dashes back to the surveillance table, where Ryuuzaki is staring bemusedly at the remaining smear of coffee on the desktop. The rest of it is hanging from the underside of his shirt sleeve, and busy leeching up toward his torso. His other arm is poised as if he intends to start rubbing at any minute.

“Here, let me.” Light says, and lays a veritable carpet of toweling down onto the desk before Ryuuzaki can make a move.

“Thank you.” Ryuuzaki says, and begins fiddling with his soggy sleeve with the intent expression of a confused monkey. God, is he trying to lick at it?!

“D-Do you want to get out of that?” Light says, for once without any ulterior motive – he is simply beset with the need to get rid of the disorder that disgusting shirt implies, the terrible pollution of soppy, ruined white cotton pressed against somebody’s skin.

Ryuuzaki cocks his head to right and looks at him curiously, as if he hasn’t quite got the idea, and Light runs out of patience. He snatches at the bottom of the garment and yanks it upward, lets Ryuuzaki flounder for a few confused seconds before he figures it out, and rips the shirt off over his head. It lands on the carpet with an unpleasant squelch, but Light doesn’t care. It isn’t on somebody anymore, and that’s the important part.

Ryuuzaki wraps his arms around his chest self-consciously, and Light realizes with a detached sort of interest that the little monkey is shivering. He doesn’t really know that he cares to put him out of his misery, though. Now that he knows what the source of the twitching is, it is not nearly so entertaining. Because Ryuuzaki does want him, it is clear in the riotous embarrassment flickering around at the back of those wide eyes. The other man is breathing incredibly shallowly, as if he would rather just pass out than say anything; maybe he would. Light gets the sense he is not used to being half-naked in front of people.

Ryuuzaki makes a pathetic, displeased sort of noise, and Light suddenly realizes that the little bastard might actually be afraid of having him stare. The thought leaves him thunderstruck.

”You okay?” He asks in his most concerned voice, though inside he is gleeful, he is tap-dancing, he is dancing a freaking jig. He has the upper hand for once, because he knows all the secrets that his rival doesn’t, that he controls the flow of life and death and soon the world itself, he is the sexiest thing alive, and his solitary opponent is crouched beneath his beauty and shivering.

“…I would like my shirt back.” Ryuuzaki responds steadily, but his hands are still trembling. Light covers them with his own without even considering retrieving the nasty piece of clothing. How far can he play this game? How far can he push him before he snaps and puts the feelings into words? Cowering beneath his dominance, admitting Light’s radiance…Light slides his palms over goosebumps and smiles, anticipates the taste of sweet victory, and vaguely hopes that Ryuuk is watching. This, this is the very definition of entertaining.

“Yagami-kun?” Ryuuzaki asks, just before Light bends over and destroys the last barrier between them.

No, he wasn’t going to kiss him, that was too dangerous - god he’d actually have to taste him - but he goes for the neck and devours the skin with the single-minded gusto that only comes from complete self-confidence. Ryuuzaki gasps and jerks his arms upward violently, but Light is already ten steps, twenty steps ahead of him – he holds Ryuuzaki’s hands fast beneath his equally strong ones and presses harder, adds teeth until it isn’t clear whether Ryuuzaki is struggling because he wants to push him away, or because he wants to reach out and pull him closer. Light allows neither. God, the power of it all is intoxicating.

A guy could get used to this.

“D-don’t!” Ryuuzaki hisses, right before Light swoops upward to nibble on an earlobe; the full body gasp he receives for his efforts makes him absolutely sure that Ryuuzaki has never been touched like this before. Nobody is this responsive and still acts this awkward, not unless they are completely at a loss for how to respond. Ryuuzaki hasn’t even moved out of his trademark fetal position: his toes are still gripping the edge of the office chair like his life depends on it. Which Light takes as a good sign. If Ryuuzaki were really serious about pushing him away, he’d be kicking. The fact that he isn’t…

He takes a chance and hooks his hands underneath Ryuuzaki’s folded elbows; almost immediately the man starts trying to flail with his forearms. Light hangs on tightly and hauls Ryuuzaki to his feet in one fluid motion, crushes him to his chest. And yes, there it is, a hard lump pressing urgently into his upper thigh -- almost at his hip, actually, damn the monkey bitch for being taller when he stands up straight -- and Light rubs against it knowingly, appreciates the way every muscle in Ryuuzaki’s back jerks to attention. Oh yes, he’s interested; interested and desperate, and in another few seconds maybe he won’t even remember his real name, let alone the fake ones.

“Y-Yagami-kun, are you really--?” Sentence cut off with a quick nip to a pulse point; Light doesn’t particularly want to hear that misconception right now. He takes what he wants in the easiest way he can get it, and right now what he wants is to make this man worship him. An intellectual victory would be far superior but he will take this win while it’s available, and the inevitable outfoxing will come to fruitition when it does.

“Don’t you dare tell my father.” He hisses, in what he approximates to be an appropriately nervous manner, and goes back to kneading his knuckles into the cords of muscle beneath Ryuuzaki’s shoulder blades. For someone so terribly malnutritioned, there is an awful lot of latent strength to Ryuuzaki’s frame, and again Light crows at his own persuasive power. If Ryuuzaki were really inclined Light has no doubt he could throw him across the room; yet here he is standing (almost) obediently.

Though awkward, definitely awkward. It is unfortunately obvious that he is going to have to take all the initiative – Ryuuzaki is slowly abandoning his show of resistance, but he is still not bothering to reciprocate in any way. And despite the unconscious reactions (the little shivers every time Light’s breath hisses across a new section of moistened skin are particularly nice), he has yet to offer up any bolder reactions. He isn’t even thrusting back, and Light is certainly rubbing hard enough against his groin to start a fire. Annoying, but not particularly surprising. Still keeping a careful hold on the man’s arms (wouldn’t do to let him get away now), Light begins to walk him backward toward the bed, the one piece of furniture in the hotel room that looks like it’s truly never been used. If he has to do everything himself, might as well be comfortable in the meantime.

Unfortunately Ryuuzaki balks and shakes his head, drags his feet on the carpet; it seems he doesn’t like being led much of anywhere. Light scowls and pushes harder, and Ryuuzaki collapses to the floor like a puppet with its strings cut. The deadweight jerks hard on Light’s back muscles, and it’s all he can do to keep from going down with him.

“Damn it!” He curses, and shakes the other man hard. “Get up!” Ryuuzaki doesn’t respond at all, just stares at him, and Light drops him, suddenly enraged.

“All right, fine.” He hisses and pounces, slamming Ryuuzaki’s shoulders to the floor before the man can even consider sitting up. “Have it your way.”

He wraps himself around Ryuuzaki on the left side, still careful to keep a good three quarters of his upper body across Ryuuzaki’s chest, and snakes an impatient hand past the cotton waistband of those abominably ugly sweat pants. Ryuuzaki’s hips surge upward in the first display of open passion that Light has seen from him; that alone is enough to force him to continue. The scratchy feeling of the bastard’s pubic hair is upsetting, but if snaking his fingers through it causes that reaction…

“No, wait, I don’t think—“

“Shut. Up.”

And then Ryuuzaki does, because Light’s hand is wrapped around him, and Light feels another rush of power at the raw way the man looks at him, with an unabashed sort of gratitude that strokes all the right places in his ego. He can’t remember what it was like to be a virgin anymore, himself – vague memories of sweaty palms and an upperclassman girl out in the utility shed – but he is very aware of what it is like to take one, to mold them to his own will and coax them into blooming. This is in some ways, disappointingly no different – Ryuuzaki is just going to lie here and let himself be serviced, and then Light will have his own way with the man and that will be the end of it.

Boring.

Light’s hand slows and stops as he pictures it, and then he lets go completely, no longer desperate to see the other man’s face twist in ecstasy. He can see it in his mind’s eye already, and it is not nearly satisfying enough to be worth it. Ryuuzaki blinks up at him slowly, still too drugged on pleasure to entirely register the loss, and Light clucks his tongue in irritation. Anybody could be looking at him like that, and it would mean exactly the same thing. That isn’t victory, it’s just a natural human reaction to stimulation.

He rolls off and hisses into his clean hand, scours the soiled one on the carpet hard enough to make the skin raw. Fuck. Beside him, Ryuuzaki makes a confused noise and stirs slightly, rolls stiffly onto his side.

“Yagami-kun? Is something amiss?” He asks, and damn him for sounding so flatly concerned, so completely unaffected. Already back to their usual formality, and not even willing to beg or anything potentially interesting like that. Light had hoped at least that leaving him hanging would be some kind of triumph – apparently not.

“I’m sorry.” Light responds curtly, though he really isn’t; it’s just damage control. “I took things too far.”

Ryuuzaki simply nods, doesn’t say a single word. His dark eyes are completely expressionless again, as if they hadn’t just been rolled back in his head. He shakes his mop of (surprisingly not oily at all) hair and smiles very kindly, the very picture of saintly forgiveness.

Light absolutely loathes him.

“What about…” Ryuuzaki’s eyes flicker to Light’s own trousers (what do you know, they are actually rather tight in the front).

“Forget about it.” Light says, and makes to stand up. Ryuuzaki’s hands catch him first, and before he can get off his knees there is hot breath at the junction of his thighs, tickling his erection through the fabric of his pants. Ryuuzaki is wrapped around his lower body, still half-lying on the floor where Light left him. And now it is Light’s turn to gape, because not only is Ryuuzaki fiddling with the front of his pants he is doing it with his teeth, albeit completely ineffectively.

So the geek watches porn after all, he thinks bemusedly, before the implication of the situation sinks in and sets his hard-on to throbbing double-time. The grungy bastard is so desperate for a piece of him that he’s willing to put his dignity on the line, and oh, wouldn’t he look nice with those ugly flat lips of his wrapped around Light’s (decidedly larger) cock? Because he’s really in the perfect position for it, and surely that scalding hot coffee sanitized enough of the nastiness in his mouth (ugh, Ryuuzaki germs) to make it worth putting his dick there. And it will hurt, because Ryuuzaki has no idea what the fuck he’s doing and Light can thrust with all the force of a jackhammer, and his creepily pale cheeks will turn hot and flushed as he tries to keep up. He can just see how the man would look as he holds him in place and humps his head, and the picture is amazingly, incredibly attractive.

Yes. Yes, he can and WILL force himself down that candy-ass throat, make that bastard eat more than his words. He reaches down between and practically rips his fly open, whips his erection out in record time. Ryuuzaki jerks his head backward like it’s going to bite him. Light catches his head and holds him there, twines his fingers in that ropey, impossible hair like reins.

“Open your mouth.” He urges, and presses the tip of his erection against Ryuuzaki’s lips. Ryuuzaki struggles again briefly before finally consenting, opening up his mouth ever so slightly and taking Light into himself. Light closes his eyes and presses inward –

-and then realizes that he’s been had, because nobody sucks dick like that, not even if they were nineteen and had slept around with the entire tennis varsity squad. Ryuuzaki’s tongue writhes around him like a live thing, putting pressure in all the right places and pulling hard enough to even earn a surprised, appreciative groan. He doesn’t even need to thrust, because Ryuuzaki is doing it for him, bobbing his head back and forth just fast enough to be maddening.

Bastard. Playing all virginal like that. Light hisses and tries to extricate himself, but god it feels so fucking good, and it really has been too long since the last time there were hands at his balls and a tongue on his cock. And talented hands and tongue, at that. It feels like his goddamn spine is melting. He lets out a heartfelt groan and bucked in surprise as Ryuuzaki pulls harder on his testicles (and dammit, how does the little monkey know he likes having his balls played with!? It isn’t fair!) He is just sure he can hear Ryuuk’s wicked, bone-rattling laughter somewhere up near the ceiling; the Reaper would get a kick out of this. Oh fuck it, let him laugh. It feels so. Fucking. Good.

And then Ryuuzaki changes what he is doing (something intricate and mind-blowing with the tip of his tongue) and Light comes, because though it isn’t like he is gay himself or anything, he never minds having his cock sucked. Except this is better than just normally having his cock sucked, this is - fuck - like all the blow jobs he’s ever had, all rolled up into one. His entire body seizes up and shudders, and then there is no thought at all for three long, blissfully painful, seconds.

Ryuuzaki swallows it all without a hitch, only withdrawing when Light starts whimpering from the contact on his now over sensitive genitals. Light collapses backward onto his heels immediately, too shell-shocked to actually remember how to sit properly. He had – but Ryuuzaki had – and now he is – well, fuck.

“Did you find that enjoyable?” Ryuuzaki asks, lapping up a stray bit of white from the corner of his mouth. When Light doesn’t respond, he plunges his own hand beneath the hem of his sweat pants, and it is a mere matter of minutes before he is gasping and coming himself, splayed across the floor in a manner so wanton that Light almost finds himself jealous.

“I’m going to use the shower.” He announces, after a matter-of-fact cleaning session (at least he used the paper towels and not the shirt again, Light notes distantly) and pads steadily to the bathroom with the satisfied air of someone who just knows they are a stud. “Would you care to join me?”

“T-that’s okay.” Light says politely, though inside he is starting to seethe. “I’ll get one later.”

“Alright.” Ryuuzaki says, and favors Light with another one of those thrice-damned benevolent smiles. “Have it your way.” He slips into the bathroom and pulls the door shut behind him, whistling some nameless tune that is probably obscure and difficult to learn.

Light forces himself to smile right up until the door closes, then falls forward and pounds his fist so hard on the carpet he’s surprised the floor doesn’t fall in. How could he have lost so easily? He won’t just take this lying down! Why, he could storm right into that shower and -

- And then there is Ryuuzaki’s face peering out of the bathroom again, amid a cloud of steam and peach bubble bath, and that kind smile (mocking? Is it mocking?!) is spreading across his face.

“And next time, Yagami-kun,” He is saying, “if you need something, please ask BEFORE you cause me to ruin a good shirt. These childish games are really beyond us, don’t you think?”

Light really does loathe the man.


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